From the Journal of Madlain, Journeywoman
by Heeks
Summary: A drabble originally written a story collection idea I'd had for 2012's NaNo. Based on Equinox Weyr, a fansite RPG.
1. Chapter 1

**Journal Log  
24.2.2550**

The mountain pass is steep, barely carved by the few passing footsteps of travelers. Questions abound.  
Firstly, were the Holdless responsible for the path on which I've decided to take?  
Secondly, do such brigands and miscreants remain within the shadows of the ice and stone?  
And if so, a third inquiry: Why have I agreed to trek so far into the northern wastelands?


	2. Chapter 2

**Journal Log  
26.2.2550**

My life was saved today by an angel of harper lore. She calls herself Hellan, and is part of a small community toward the west of my destination of Jenau Hold. She is not Holdless, she claims, nor are any of her kin. They are of the Cantwell caravan – not traders, but nomads. She says they have used the local paths and train routes for as long as the Cantwell name has lived on Pern.  
I must say, I was surprised at the notion. For so many Passes, it has been assumed that such lifestyles ceased during the Ancients' time. To have found a family – a small township of people, if my eyes do not deceive me – still keeping to one of the Ancients' ways is simply astounding.

I will have to find a way to report this back to Harper Hall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Journal Log  
7.3.2550**

Hellan has asked if I would like to join her on the day's hunt. I can hardly say no, given the aid the Cantwells have offered me thus far, but I have to question my worth with a spear or bow.  
"Madlain," Hellan laughed when I asked her how I might be of use, "Leave the hunting to me. You just be pretty bait."  
I must confess that I blushed at the off-handed compliment. Surely it was meant as a jest, to calm my nerves before the hunt.

Hellan and her brothers are like felines on the prowl. Working as a unit and armed solely with their stone-sharpened spears, they took down a small pack of wild canines. The curs easily came to my waist before death and her brother Hershan says that they are "wolves," able to take down a full grown man if unchallenged.

I have been offered a pelt for my participation in the hunt, though I do not believe I deserve it, as I feel I was there less as an active member in the hunt and more as the bait Hellan jested me to be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Journal Log  
20.3.2550**

It has been nearly two sevendays since my last entry. I have hardly found the time to write, as the Cantwells have needed every able hand available in order to move the camp northward before the spring storms affect us.  
Hellan and I share most dinners together. She is a fine companion, always with a story to tell the "harpergirl." If I must be honest with myself, I find I am loathe to leave the company of the family's encampment.  
I cannot say if this is because of the warmth the family has offered me, or if I am rushing headlong into an attachment I know should not be.  
But how could I not? This woman saved me from bitter cold, from hunger, and likely from making myself into a meal for wandering canines wolves (though I find myself growing nauseous at the notion).  
I fear I may be admitting what should best be left unsaid. As it stands, it is unlikely Hellan shares the same sort of affection I find myself feeling for her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Journal Log  
23.3.2550**

I have been afflicted with what the Cantwells call a "walking sickness." They have secluded me to a tent at the far east end of the encampment and all but Hellan have refused to enter. Surely, if not for her good graces, I would again be meeting death.  
I can barely hold in the bland soup she brings everyday, though I maintain for her worried smile.  
She has taken to calling me Lain, and that I should not die. She would hate for her first friend to die under her watch.  
The announcement stunned me, though I suppose it should make sense enough. How many other nomadic caravans could there be, so far North? The members of the family that have come in from the outside world consist of children left Holdless, raised and married into the unit.  
Even so, I must admit that my heart skipped at the notion of Hellan allowing me so close.

I think – no. I believe my fever is not solely based upon my sickness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Journal Log  
2.4.2550**

My fever plagues on, despite Hellan's tender ministrations. I fear as if my days are soon to be numbered. Hellan worries for me, though she tries to keep a smile and laugh as she continues to tell me the stories of her youth.  
She asked me today if I might write one of her tales down, despite she herself being unable to read the written word. I believe she hopes that my work might benefit my state of health, and while I cannot say I am of the same mind, I agreed to pen it.  
I cannot say no to her.

_When I was a child, the nights were much colder than they are now. Wild animals were much more brave, and we were not to play outside in the dark. I asked my mother once, "Why is the dark so dangerous?"  
"Because Wolf sends his children to play when the sun goes down," she replied.  
"I want to play with Wolf's children!" I said, "I am brave!"  
"Wolf's children would eat you, then," my mother said, "Brave children are their favorite meal."_

One night, when the whole camp was sleeping, I crept outside into the dark. "Wolf!" I whispered, "Let your children come and play!"  
Wolf answered with a howl on the air.  
Soon I saw tens and tens of glowing eyes, all golden, all beautiful. I stepped toward them in the dark, not able to see them well. "Are you Wolf's children?" I asked. "I have come to play with you."  
They must have been Wolf's own sons, for they leapt at me and snarled. I cried out, "Mother! Mother!" but she did not hear me.  
The wolf bit and clawed at me, even as I fought to dig a hole in the snow to escape. Again and again in the air I could hear Wolf's howl, approving of his children. For so long I'd heard of my father and brother hunting Wolf's children, and now I was the one to be hunted.  
"Mother!" I cried again. I was no brave child. I was crying. I was afraid.  
Wolf's child didn't seem to care. I would be eaten anyway.  
Suddenly, from beyond my little hole in the ground, I saw light! Father's hunting party had returned! Arrows flew at Wolf's children, and a harsh yelp came from just above where I hid. The wolf that had been hunting me?  
"Come out, brave child," my father's voice! I squirmed out of my hideaway. "Lana?" he was surprised.  
"I'm not a brave girl," I cried in his arms. "But the wolves didn't care! They wanted to eat me!"  
To my surprise, my father laughed. "You are a smart girl, though. Wolves like smart girls just as much as they like brave ones."

After she had quieted, I asked Hellan what became of her father. She took the dinner tray away and offered me a sad smile.  
"He was very brave and very smart," she said, and left me to my writing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Journal Log  
16.4.2550**

I fear I may be dying. I have grown weak, and am unable to keep my meals down. It has taken me the whole of the day to write out even these sparse words. Hellan has been a constant at my side, and says if my spirit is to go between, then she will be at my side to see it there safely.  
I cannot say that I agree with her superstitious beliefs, but it is a comfort to know that should this be my last night on Pern, her smiling face will be the last that I see.


	8. Chapter 8

**Journal Log  
6.5.2550**

Slowly, without truly knowing how or why, I have made a recovery. Hellan says that it is a gift and to not question it, but I have to wonder; how did I manage to come back, so close to the brink of death?  
Today is my first day out of the quarantine in which the Cantwells had placed me. I am to remain in the camp with the elders while Hellan and her brothers go hunting. We sit around the fire, the elders speaking amongst themselves in such a dialect that I have to occasionally wonder if these nomads aren't structuring a language entirely of their own making.  
Hilla, the eldest and thus appointed family head, has offered to tell me a story for my writings. I have accepted the offer.

_Long ago, before your Holds and your dragons, the Sun and Moons lusted after one another. In their affairs, they gave birth to so many stars. Those star filled the skies as Pern watched in loneliness.  
"Stars," Pern begged, "Come to me, for I long for the love your parents have!"  
"We will," the stars said, "But not all of us, for we are many and you would not know what to do with us."  
And then three stars came down to Pern. However, the stars had brought children of their own in order to tend to the lands and the waters and the mountains. These three stars hoped to live with their children on Pern, and for their love to end Pern's loneliness.  
Instead, Pern raged. He wanted the stars for himself, and had not wanted children that were not his own. The mountains gave forth fire and smoke and the children ran north. Some farther, some less. The stars fled back to the sky in horror at what Pern had done.  
When his rage was cooled, Pern sought out the stars and begged for their forgiveness.  
"You were cruel," said the First Star.  
"You hurt our children," said the Second Star.  
"You don't deserve the love we offered," said the Third Star.  
"But Beautiful Stars," Pern cried out, "I can love in return! I give your children water so they might drink, grains so they might eat, and beasts so they might find companionship!" But the stars would not return, instead floating above Pern, waiting for him to show that he could truly be good and kind.  
Father Sun and Mother Moons' eyes grew red and they wept over the lost love between the stars and Pern, and in their sorrow came the tears that we, the children of the stars, call Thread. _

I asked, when Hilla had seemed to finish her tale, what she thought the Passes and Intervals might then mean.  
"Your Passes are nothing more than the Sun and Moons crying anew for their heartbroken children," she replied with a soft, knowing chuckle. "Your Intervals are merely the peace when the Stars reconsider returning to Pern."  
I must say, Hilla's strange story is one that I find myself enjoying, despite my disbelief.  
It will need to be sent back to Fort in time, as I am certain the Harper Hall could find a rather studious use in these folktales of our origins.


	9. Chapter 9

**Journal Log  
17.5.2550**

Hellan has offered for me to join her on an outing. I have accepted, though I am wary of going outside the encampment, lest I catch another sickness so soon after my recovery.

Today, she showed me where her father had been buried. He had been a rather skillful hunter in his time, she said, and had been a child from Jenau. He had been a harper, like myself, though only an apprentice at the time he'd come lost into the Wastes.  
"How did Haslan become part of the caravan?" I'd asked.  
Hellan gave me that same sad smile. He'd been on leave to visit his family in Tongass when holdless attacked his troupe. Had it not been for the Cantwells being so close to the Hold lines that day, he might have died in the attack. He was instead saved by Hellan's own mother. I asked then if he'd ever missed life in the Hall.  
"He spoke of it, but said he preferred life with us," she replied.  
I admit that I can see how the change in lifestyle might be desired. Here, within the camps, I have no master to appease, no quota to meet, and no haughty Lords demanding my every moment. There is a peace here that cannot be found within "civilization."


	10. Chapter 10

**Journal Log  
20.6.2550**

Hellan came to my tent tonight. She offered me a gift for my birthing day: a stone-carved pendant with her clan's sigil.  
And a kiss.

I cannot truly say which flustered me more.


	11. Chapter 11

**Journal Log  
27.6.2550**

It has been days since I last saw that sweet huntress, my blonde-haired savior. She, Hershan, and Hidaln left in a hunting party some nights ago. With the warmth of summer in full tow, I fear they may have been left to the mercies of the rains.  
That is, I hope for mere rain.


	12. Chapter 12

**Journal Log  
4.7.2550**

Hershan and Hidaln returned today with freshly-tanned sacks full of furs; the meat, they said, had to be eaten upon the killing, lest scavenging beasts track them. I asked of Hellan, and both brothers paled. It seems she went missing during the rainstorm, and neither had been able to locate her after the skies had cleared.  
I am told not to fear the worst, but the looks the elders trade and the low, slurred speech with which they converse tells me that I may soon find myself in mourning.


	13. Chapter 13

**Journal Log  
19.8.2550**

The camp moves on, and Hellan is nowhere to be found. I had hoped her brothers might have continued their search for her before the caravan moved on, but I cannot begrudge them for putting the whole of the community above their own concerns.

Hershan came to my tent tonight, after the camp had settled for the evening. He offered me something of Hellan's. It is a small, stuffed toy in the shape of a golden-eyed wolf.


	14. Chapter 14

**Journal Log  
2.9.2550**

Hidaln says that when we reach the next campsite, he and Hershan will begin their search for Hellan anew. I cannot claim any hope in their hunt, for we are far from the hunting grounds wherein Hellan was last seen, but I have asked to go with them regardless.


	15. Chapter 15

**Journal Log  
15.9.2550**

By the Egg, I never would have thought it possible until this morning, but we found her! Hellan's alive! Wounded, surely, and near enough to starvation that she looks half a person compared to her former fighting strength, but she's alive!


	16. Chapter 16

**Journal Log  
27.9.2550**

The camp has been slow to move, with Hellan still recovering. It seems only days ago when our roles had been reversed and it was she playing caretaker to my weakened state.  
Today, when I brought her a tray of flat, stone-cooked bread and bland soup, I set the stuffed toy wolf at her bedside. She gave a weak smile and told me to keep it. That it was a good luck charm, and that I needed more luck than she.  
"You say that, but you're the one in bed," I said.  
"But you are not a fighter," she replied.  
She refuses to speak of what had caused her to go missing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Journal Log  
13.10.2550**

Hellan's recovery is slow. While I am and have never claimed to be a healer of any sort, she still asks that I see to her wounds. The bruising along her ribs is severe, though I know by now not to ask what might have been the cause.  
She will tell me at her own discretion, if she chooses at all.

Hellan asked me at dinner if I could teach her to write. I was elated, and offered to begin by morning. However, I felt the need to ask what could have inspired it, when she was so skilled in the hunt. Surely, the camp didn't need a scribe?  
"I have my reasons," was her only reply.


	18. Chapter 18

**Journal Log  
15.10.2550**

Hellan is an amazing student; not two days in, and she's already grasped the lettering for vowels as well as the sounds made for each letter within the alphabet. She says I am a good teacher, and that when I leave for Jenau, the children there will benefit.  
The idea of leaving her side, however, is a pain all unto itself, and I cannot bear the thought that the Hold might be mere months away.


	19. Chapter 19

**Journal Log  
3.11.2550**

Hellan's grasp of the language is surprising, to the point where I have to wonder to myself if her father hadn't given her some sort of foundation in such learning in her youth. She says otherwise, but smiles to herself when she thinks I cannot see.


	20. Chapter 20

**Journal Log  
5.11.2550**

After dinner tonight, I stole into Hellan's tent. I had surprised her, it seemed, for she had prepared herself for bed.  
I had not expected her to sleep in the nude; my surprise at the sight (as well as my following embarrassment) seemed to please her. Though she remained under the furs of her bedding, she beckoned me close.  
When she offered to remove my own attire, I could not refuse her.


	21. Chapter 21

**Journal Log  
12.11.2550**

I have since remained in Hellan's tent, offering my own to a young couple that have recently handfasted. I confess, I am unsure as how to progress with the blonde sleeping by my side. Perhaps had I been Weyr-raised in nearby Telgar or Benden, I might have seen our union in a different light. However, my life began in the Hall. I cannot help but wonder if what I am doing is right.  
Is it so terrible as to love this woman?  
Is it so terrible as to lust after her?  
Her hand curls at my hip, and I want nothing more than to put my journal down, to bend my lips down to hers, and to wake her with a kiss.


	22. Chapter 22

**Journal Log  
13.11.2550**

The hunting party has left, once more leaving me to the companionship of the elders. I sit with them, and as they speak in their hurried, slurring tones, I realize I've found an ear for the dialect. No longer am I only grasping a word in every other sentence. Like Hellan and her writing, I've found an ease in the local tongue at which I've never encountered elsewhere.  
"Harpergirl's caught on," Silla chuckles at me.  
"Good. Maybe she'll laugh when we make jokes at her expense." Numa grins.  
I can't help but laugh, even as I write.


	23. Chapter 23

**Journal Log  
14.11.2550**

Hellan returned tonight, and we celebrated the victory of their hunt the only way we could.  
Her hand is curled at my breast, hindering my writing. I don't care.


	24. Chapter 24

**Journal Log  
1.12.2550**

The gain has been gradual, but it seems as if sweet Hellan has been growing in size. She eats ravenously, and most of my meals are shared with her, as her own do not sustain.  
Today, her brothers forbade her from the hunt.


	25. Chapter 25

**Journal Log  
2.13.2550**

_Morning_

Hellan is pregnant, and while the camp's jests about my own gender have not fallen on deaf ears (and do, in fact, seem to lighten Hellan's own mood), I question her sincerity toward me.  
-

_Evening  
_  
I no longer need to question what caused her lengthy departure from the camp. When I asked if she still felt any attachment toward the man whose child she carries, her grip on my hand grew tight.  
"There was no love, Lain." She promised me. "At the hunt. I was away from my brothers. Men came. Men took what wasn't theirs to take. What was yours."  
I paled at her explanation. "Holdless?" I asked.  
Hellan shrugged at me. "Doesn't matter. Bastard will be born by the time you're gone."


	26. Chapter 26

**Journal Log  
1.1.2551**

Turnover was a rather interesting affair. We are a sevenday away from Jenau, and Hellan (upon my own urging) has asked the elders if she might accompany me into the Hold.  
They have agreed, but offer a counter-demand: We are to be handfasted in the morning.  
I'll admit without shame that I am apprehensive of the union. Within the Hold, we could never admit the marriage and in truth might be sent away from smaller townships should we be found out. Hellan says she doesn't care, and so, if I must be truthful, neither can I.


	27. Chapter 27

**Journal Log  
1.2.2551**

The handfasting was held this morning, under the quiet frost of the trees. Hellan was in her best linens, though the cold called for a heavy fur coat to cover the bulk of her frame.  
She was beautiful, standing there in that morning light. When I gave my own vows, our hands united by a soft, quilted, knot, that same lovely smile spread across her lips.


	28. Chapter 28

**Journal Log  
28.2.2551**

It has been but days over a Turn since I entered the Snowy Wastes in hopes of finding my new placement within Jenau's young Hold. Hellan is riding in the small train while I sit at the reins with Hershan as he drives the runner onward.  
Within the little car, I can hear my wife sing a soft, sweet lullaby to our newborn son. Hershan grins at me and I back at him.  
"You named him Haslan?" He asked.  
It seemed a good name.


End file.
